Love and War
by 6x9is42
Summary: In a world full of war, does love still exist?


I was standing quietly on an abandoned cobblestone street. Debris could be found everywhere. This was both good and bad. Good because I could hide more easily from potential enemies. Bad because it meant something terrible had already happened here. I crouched down to rest a while, laying my hands on the cold, wet ground. I let my mind wander to the times before the "war" started, my longing for a once easier time almost taking me over.

I had it pretty easy growing up. I came from a middle class family. Had a mother and father, divorced but both remarried to other people, had an older brother who always looked out for me, three dogs, a cat, and friends I could always count on. My parents paid for my college education despite the fact that I had no idea what I wanted to do. Life was golden.

Then everything changed.

It was almost as if one day the sun stopped shining. It didn't matter that there were signs. So what if the days started getting shorter and shorter? So what about the snowfall in August? No one wanted to accept the fact that there was impending doom until it was too late. It was when it was too late that the panic ensued. What were we going to do about food? Where was the energy going to come from? Were other countries going to take advantage of this cloak of night? We soon found out the answers:

1. Gather and save, maybe steal from your neighbors.

2. Wherever you could find it.

3. Yes.

But it wouldn't start with other countries. It would start here. Neighbors fighting neighbors over territory, friends fighting friends over gasoline, family fighting family over food.

My mother and father, who always got along despite the divorce, started fighting over what to do with my brother and I. I dropped out of college; there was no wasting money on that now. My friends abandoned me for fear of us turning on each other. Our pets were thrown out to fend for their own. But my brother and I stuck together. I guess that's why I originally joined this coalition. I missed being part of a group of people fighting for a cause. I missed being part of a family. I missed my brother most of all.

I was snapped back from my reverie when I heard the sudden CRACK! of a twig being crushed under foot. Someone who was that clumsy surely would be easy to defend myself from.

I was wrong.

It all started out fine. I peered ahead, trying to see if it was friend or foe. Not that it was an easy task. It was not as if we wore certain designated colors to distinguish sides. It was a fight for survival, you against everyone else. There were the few of us who formed groups either out of convenience or some other factor. For me it was a healthy reminder of how things used to be. When you would help your neighbor by picking up their mail when they went out of town. When you went to a bar to watch a football game and you cheered with everyone else when your team got a touchdown.

Not long after I got a good look at this man did I realize he would not be a friend to me. My thoughts went immediately to Nathan. My mentor, my savior. Without him I probably wouldn't be alive today. When I first ran into him on the street, I too thought he wouldn't be a friend to me. With him, my judgement on his motives was wrong but with many months of traning, my judgement hasn't been wrong since. This new man in front of me spotted me as well, raising his gun to point at me. He wasted no time but I was ready. I trained long and hard for four months (there was no time to waste) in order to gain the necessary skills to survive. He shot at me but I had already moved so I dodged the bullet… this time.

Little did I know he was not alone. Hiding slightly farther back behind a long fallen tree hid a woman not unlike me. For all I knew this man could be her older brother, protecting her, struggling for both of them to survive. I didn't want to kill him just for that fact. But it was obviously a choice of kill or be killed.

We danced around each other, trying to predict the other one's moves. I found his weakness. He was worried about the woman; continually glancing back to make sure she was alright. Good thing I was fast! I waited for his next worried glance and that's when I made my move. In my back pocket was a knife. It was small but it would do the trick. I ran toward him and swung around his back. I got the knife to his throat but it was too late. The woman was also armed with a gun. Before I knew it, I was on the ground with a throbbing pain in my chest growing hotter by the second. Somehow I was still alive, breathing and able to move but I dared not show this to the man and woman. The bullet had barely missed my heart. They searched my pockets as I held my breath laying face down. They took whatever I had, which wasn't much, gave me a swift kick in the stomach, and went on their way.

I waited a while before making any move. I listened for any signs that anyone or anything was near. It took all my energy to force myself up onto my feet and figure out both where I was and where I needed to go. My need to see Nathan was all I could think about. My coalition had a "headquarters" not far from here in an abandoned building. It was a small three-story building with a still working elevator. This is what we needed for Nathan, our head guy, who was paralyzed from the waist down and stuck in a wheelchair forever. Luckily for me, there was also a makeshift hospital inside. I started to slowly make my way in the general direction of the building. I was an easy target moving slowly, inch by inch. There was a lot of luck on my side that night.

I made it to the building and collapsed against the door. The blood loss was finally catching up to me. The darkness, a different one from the outside world, took me over. I only hoped someone would find me soon.

I woke up in a cot against a wall of a dimly lit hallway. My head and chest was bandaged up and throbbing but I was moving, breathing, and most importantly still alive. I couldn't stand to be lying down anymore. Something inside me told me I had been out for several days. My legs needed to stretch and I wanted to see Nathan.

Nathan was the closest thing to a father for me. He took me in shortly after my brother died. My brother was foolish in that one second. He died trying to protect me instead of worrying about himself. I could have taken care of myself. I miss him every second of every day. Nathan gave me food, shelter, and training that has saved my life countless times. Every day I searched for a way to repay him for everything he had given me. Nothing was ever enough but I never stopped trying.

I slowly rose up from the bed, moving my legs so that they dangled off the edge. I hoped they would be able to hold me up. I carefully let them touch the ground and tested my weight on them. It seemed good enough for me.

I made my way down the hall in the direction of the elevator. The third floor was entirely Nathan's office so if I was going to start looking for him somewhere, it would be there. Unfortunately, dizziness made it so I arrived only a few feet from the elevator before I could no longer go any farther. I slid against the wall, my legs scrunched up against my stomach. I waited for the room to stop spinning and when it did, I waited some more. I didn't want to push myself too far. I still needed to worry about my health despite my longing to see Nathan. I felt like I would go crazy from waiting when I heard the familiar DING! of the elevator. Someone was coming.

I let my legs slide out in front of me, not afraid if anyone would trip over them. It would be their own fault for not paying attention, an important quality nowadays. I heard a second DING! and the sound of the elevator doors opening. I held my breath in anticipation. Sure enough, out of the corner of my eye I could see a wheelchair silently rolling into the first floor hallway from the elevator. I breathed a sigh of relief. There he was, the person I wanted to see the most. My savior, my angel, my family.

When he caught my stare, I could see he was surprised to see me out of bed, especially lounging against a hard wall which was surely much less comfortable. I waited anxiously for him to speak first. I had no words to explain what happened and no questions I could think to ask him.

We were both silent for a long time. I was waiting for him to speak while he was waiting to see what actions I would take. I finally got the courage and strength to get myself to stand up. He must have been waiting for me to do this because that was when he rolled closer toward me, angling his chair so that the wheel almost touched my leg. He spoke one sentence to me and it was all I ever wanted and needed to hear.

"I was so worried about you."

I bent down closer to him. The next thing I knew, his arms were around me. I don't know how long it had been since I had received a hug. Probably not since my brother was alive and he had passed almost a year ago. No matter the length between those two hugs, the act still felt natural to me. My arms wrapped around his body as if they had been waiting for this moment my entire life.

It was in that moment that I knew love still existed. I didn't know if there could possibly be any left in the world. But I knew, from that one act, that he loved me like his own and that love I returned back to him.


End file.
